I had dreams about him last night. Though I can only remember one of them. We were on some kind of Vespa, and he was going too fast and we crashed.
He didn’t look hurt, or bad, or anything. He just left. And in the dream I ran through what looked like an huge apartment complex, knocking on every door and calling his name, over and over. No one opened any of the doors.
That’s all I remember. I had another dream but I don’t remember any of it fortunately.
I remember how I woke up each time. Gasping for breath, choking on tears, sobbing, and feeling like I couldn’t breathe.
This is how I am because he’s gone. Because he chooses to be gone.
And I just want it to stop.
Stop brain, he’s gone. If he cared he’d be back. But he doesn’t so he won’t.
But my brain continues dreaming.